


From Fire To Stone

by RinHaruismyOTP



Series: Unconnected Merthur Works [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, M/M, Magic, Post-Magic Reveal, Transformation, pyre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinHaruismyOTP/pseuds/RinHaruismyOTP
Summary: He was scheduled to burn the next day.





	

It had happened so fast, Merlin hadn’t had the opportunity to think things through. The king and the prince had been in attendance at court, so had the assassin. The king and the prince made it away unharmed, the assassin was killed, and Merlin was taken away in chains.

He was scheduled to burn the next day.

The look on Arthur’s face had been the worst thing. Shock, betrayal, pain. It made Merlin’s heart ache just to see it, to see the effect of his lies and the hatred Uther had ingrained in his son so clear in Arthur’s features.

He was going to burn.

He felt numb; the panic was yet to set in. He thought detachedly of his mother, who wouldn’t hear of his fate until it had already come about, and of Gaius, the father-figure he’d never had growing up – and what would happen to him now? Would he be arrested too, for harbouring a sorcerer? What about Gwen? Would she hate him now, for his lies, for his sorcery, the forbidden art, the _crime_ that had led to her father’s execution?

Merlin had nothing to do but think about it all. And deny it all he wanted, he couldn’t escape the truth that it was Arthur he was most worried about. Frankly, without Merlin the future king wouldn’t last a week. Somehow this was the thought that managed to evoke some feeling in him, and Merlin could do little more than clutch at his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. There was nothing else he could do whilst clad in iron chains.

Even alone with naught but his thoughts, morning came too soon. At the first hint of light through the small, barred window Merlin felt his throat dry up, and sure enough seconds later he was greeted by guards unlocking his cell and marching him through the stone corridors and out into the courtyard. The pyre loomed ahead, an ominously subdued crowd standing round it. Whispers ran through the crowd, but there were none of the usual taunts and insults thrown at him. Despite himself, and his situation, Merlin felt a little warmed by that.

It was pointless for him to struggle against the guards tying him to the pyre, as whilst strong magically, physical strength was not something Merlin was gifted with. Not for the first time Merlin wished that Lancelot hadn’t been sent away from Camelot – a familiar face would have been nice right about now. Gaius was conspicuous in his absence, as was Gwen.  

It was taking a long time; it didn’t usually take so long for Uther to make his appearance at an execution. Or maybe it just seemed that way, what with it being Merlin himself being executed. Maybe all Uther’s victims felt the long stretch of apprehension tied to the pyre, waiting for their king, their executioner to show himself.

But no, it seemed that was a luxury afforded only to him. Now that he focused, he could hear the sounds of arguing coming from Uther’s personal chambers, could hear the beautiful, rich tones of his prince, raised in disagreement. Finally though, the king stepped out onto the balcony, his son close behind, face contorted in anger. Arthur looked out at him on the pyre and their eyes met, and suddenly Merlin was feeling _every_ thing. The guilt, the fear, the pain, the worry, the love, the grief. And he could see so much of it reflected back at him in his prince’s eyes; he felt his own sting.

Uther’s voice was thunderous in the relative silence. “This man, Merlin of Ealdor, is sentenced to death for the use of magic, and therefore treason. Do you have any last words?”

Out of the corner of his eye Merlin could see torches blazing in the hands of the guards. Panic filled him, and all of a sudden he could only think one thought. “I don’t want to die,” he said, voice cracking as anxiety run through his body. And then-

 _Every_ thing. _Every_ thing happened, or so it seemed. He felt his magic burst, flow out of him in such a way he had never experienced before and spread far and wide. Through overwhelmed eyes he noticed a tendril of it wrap itself round the prince who, unseeing of it, continued to merely stare at Merlin, eyes wide.

His heart was beating fast. He could feel it throbbing as it fought to keep up with the release of magic, held in for too long with the chains and now tempered and uncontrollable. It was a mad rush, and Merlin could barely breathe for the power being expelled. And then-

Nothing. Nothing happened, or so it seemed. He couldn’t- couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe at all, couldn’t hear anything at all, couldn’t _do_ anything at all. He was-

Frozen. From his previous line of sight, he could see Uther shouting, Arthur _still just staring_. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t break their gaze until Arthur himself looked away, hand raising to his mouth in something like horror and stepping backwards off the balcony.

At first he was surrounded non-stop. The king’s men, the people of Camelot, anyone and everyone who passed by would stop and stare. He’d see Arthur occasionally, in the distance where he would pause, send him a lingering glance, then set off again to wherever he was going.

Gwen was there one of the first days following, taking one look before falling onto her knees and sobbing into her hands. Gaius too eventually found his way to him, and something vaguely like relief flitted through Merlin’s quiet mind. The old man did not seem to feel the same way, breaking down in such a way Merlin would never have thought him capable of, and he was glad he could only half see his mentor from his position.

Soon, however, the crowd died down. Gwen and Gaius were regulars at his post, as were the ever distant Arthur’s long looks, but only one or two random others would stop to stare at him after a while. He’d see Uther though, on his balcony, sometimes watching him smugly, other times with an ounce of fear in his eyes, but mostly avoiding looking at him at all. Merlin preferred when it was the latter.

And then suddenly – or perhaps not so suddenly. How long _had_ gone by since the day of his execution? – it wasn’t Uther who stepped out onto the balcony anymore. It was Arthur.

King Arthur. He had survived without him, it seemed.

From then on, Arthur’s visits were no longer looks from afar. He would sit on the side of Merlin’s pyre for an hour or so each day and speak to him, and it was at those times that Merlin would wish more than ever that he could hear. He wished he could turn his head, see Arthur’s expressions and body language, such a big part of Arthur’s character.

As suddenly as they had started however, the visits stopped a few months after. The looks hadn’t returned either, and Arthur was just absent. Merlin was as worried as he could be in his current state of mind. A couple of days passed, then a week, then a month.

When he returned, he was smiling. He smiled, walked up to Merlin, and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

And Merlin kissed back. And then-

Arthur. Arthur happened, or so it seemed. The first thing he heard was his voice, murmuring his own name against his lips, repeated over and over again. “Arthur?” Merlin croaked, voice weary with lack of use. He looked his king in the eye, and he was still smiling but his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, and Merlin laughed a little, overcome by the emotion that was only now pouring into him. Arthur looked a little older, of course he did, he _was_ older, but he was still very much the same figure he’d known before. “Merlin you protected me, back then in court, and all the time since then. Stuck as a stone statue in the courtyard you still managed it, I could feel it every time I was in a bad situation. Merlin, I love you. More than _any_ thing. True love’s kiss, that was what woke you. I’m so sorry I let this happen.” He buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, letting out gentle, small sobs.

Merlin smiled, and moving even that much was so much effort, but felt so good. “It’s not your fault, my king,” he said, slowly moving his arm and nestling his fingers in the other man’s hair. “I know you did what you could. I’m sorry I kept the truth from you for so long.” He coaxed Arthur’s head off his shoulder and cupped his face in his hands. “I love you too, you absolute prat,” he said, giving the best grin he could.

Arthur snorted, and his eyes sparkled. “I’ve missed you, idiot,” he said, and Merlin’s grin couldn’t have come easier. He thought of Gwen, and of Gaius, and of Lancelot who had been by a couple of times more recently, who were all almost certainly somewhere in the castle right now, and felt a thrill at the idea of seeing them and speaking to them properly. For now, though, he settled for kissing his king again, until he noticed the plaque on the side of his pyre.

 _Merlin of Ealdor_ , it read, _loyal protector and friend of King Arthur_.

And he felt-

 _Everything_.


End file.
